


For The Greater Good

by Rose_SK



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eskel Has Self-Esteem Issues (The Witcher), Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26910811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/pseuds/Rose_SK
Summary: The two lay for a while in peaceful silence before Eskel’s baritone voice was heard again.“I think I want to talk about my nightmare. I think it would help. Not only me, but it would also help you understand some… things about me.”“Oh Eskel,” Jaskier placed a single kiss on the witcher’s collarbone, “I am all ears, my heart.”“Alright.” Eskel took a composing breath and pulled Jaskier closer with his free arm as if drawing strength from his bard.OR Eskel has a nightmare and Jaskier is there to help him through it.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 99





	For The Greater Good

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I've recently so many amazingly heart-wrenching stories where Eskel is everyone's emotional support witcher, BUT hear me out! Even an emotional support witcher needs his emotional support bard <3
> 
> I've been fussing over this fic for far too long, I'm starting to hate every part of it so I'm dumping it here before I delete all of it out of frustration. I hope you guys enjoy it anyhow <3

Jaskier was jostled awake in the middle of the night when a muscular arm landed unceremoniously on his stomach, knocking the air out of him and forcing him to sit up in surprise. His eyes instantly searched the room frantically for any sign of threat, but it soon became apparent that it was the sleeping form next to him in bed that was responsible for the commotion. Jaskier was quickly to card his fingers through the fine brown hair and whisper sweet nothings into the air between him and his lover. 

“Shh, Eskel my love, wake up. You’re safe.”

A string of mumbles left Eskel’s mouth, but he did not wake up. The crease between his eyebrows deepened and Jaskier’s concern for his lover only grew at the sight. Eskel was no stranger to nightmares, but Jaskier had rarely seen them have such a strong hold on the quiet witcher. He shook Eskel more firmly as he desperately tried to pry his dearest witcher from the clutches of sleep. 

“Eskel, wake up! It’s me, you’re safe. Wake up, dear heart.”

Eskel eventually shot up into a seated position, his eyes blown wide and panting heavily as he willed his racing heart to slow down. Jaskier gave the witcher some time to recover from the night terror and to get his bearings. Twenty years travelling with Geralt had told the bard not to spook a startled witcher, or you might just end up being reflexively punched in the gut for your efforts. Eskel and Jaskier had met shortly after the dragon hunt when Geralt had sent Jaskier on his merry way. The bard had taken residence in Novigrad for a couple of weeks to recuperate and get over the heartache that Geralt’s harsh words had occasioned. Eskel had been passing through Novigrad for supplies and a heavy storm had eventually convinced the witcher to pay for a room for the night at the Kingfisher, where Jaskier happened to be performing that same night.

Jaskier had been hypnotised. Eskel’s warm amber eyes, his quiet – almost shy demeanour, the way he fiddled nervously with his witcher medallion when the tavern started filling up, the soft smile tugging at the corner of the scarred lips when Jaskier performed ‘Toss a Coin’ and was joined by the crowd. Jaskier had been unable to resist. After the cheering of the audience had died down and Jaskier had picked up the coins tossed his way, he went to the bar and ordered two meals and four tankards of ale before making his way to Eskel’s table. _You must be one of the only patrons in here who hasn’t commented on my performance. You must have a review, three words or less._ Jaskier hated himself in that moment – it was almost like he was looking to get hurt again. He remembered Geralt’s answer to that very same question two decades earlier and the memory of Geralt hurt more than the bard cared to admit.

Jaskier should have known that Eskel would be different from the get-go.

_Three words isn’t nearly enough to describe how much I enjoyed your performance, bard._

From that moment on, Jaskier had willingly surrendered his heart to the witcher. 

“It’s alright, dear heart,” Jaskier tentatively whispered, his voice too quiet for any mere mortal to hear, but Eskel’s enhanced sense of hearing would no doubt had picked up the soft reassurance, “you’re safe at Kaer Morhen. You’re home, with me. And Geralt, Lambert and Vesemir are here too. We’re all here with you.”

“Go back to sleep, Jaskier,” Eskel’s tone was soft, but betrayed how tense he still felt in the aftermath of his nightmare. Jaskier’s heart broke at the sound. “It was just a bad dream. I’ll be alright.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jaskier offered kindly, but the way Eskel visibly flinched away from his lover’s touch when the bard went to place a comforting hand on the witcher’s shoulder was enough to stop Jaskier in his tracks. He tried to ignore the flash of hurt he felt at the obvious rejection. _It’s nothing personal_ , Jaskier reasoned with himself, _Eskel just needs time_. Although Eskel was usually the least averse to talk about his feelings, Jaskier had learned over the past three years of knowing Eskel that some topics should not be brought up. It was not a long list, but Jaskier was convinced it was not an exhaustive one by any means. Eskel’s scars and how he came by them were one of those topics that Jaskier had learned not to broach unless he wanted to see his lover retreat into himself and shut off completely. The trials and the sacking of Kaer Morhen were on that list too.

Jaskier had a funny feeling that whatever Eskel had seen in his nightmare would feature on the list of topics-not-to-be-mentioned.

“Got to sleep. I’ll be there when you wake,” Eskel promised as he threw the covers to one side and got out of bed. In a flash, Jaskier’s hand grabbed onto his lover’s wrist and held him back long enough for Eskel to cast a tired look over his shoulder. The witcher could have easily broken free from Jaskier’s grasp, but he allowed the bard to pull him back.

“Where are you going at this time of night, dearest witcher?”

The concern in Jaskier’s voice made Eskel heave a heavy sigh. The witcher twisted around and leaned over the mattress to place a tender kiss on Jaskier’s forehead.

“I promise I won’t be going far, sweetling. I just need to clear my head. I’ll probably go groom Scorpion or shovel snow out of the courtyard. Now, go back to sleep, you hear me?”

Jaskier wasn’t exactly pleased with Eskel’s answer, much more keen on keeping the witcher in their warm bed and coax his worries and fears out of him. Kill them with kindness, his mother had always told him. Jaskier was a master at doing just that, and it was even easier with Eskel since the bard had the witcher wrapped around his little finger. However, Jaskier knew that any attempts at keeping Eskel in bed this time would end up in failure for him. He knew better than to pressure his witcher to talk when Eskel was clearly not ready to open his heart to him yet. Jaskier smiled at Eskel, and although the smile did not quite reach the bard’s bright blue eyes he hoped that it was appeasing nonetheless.

“I promise I’ll be back in the morning when you wake,” Eskel repeated himself, whether for his sake or Jaskier’s the bard could not really tell.

“Alright then,” Jaskier finally relented, and the soft kiss he got in recompense for his understanding rightened the word on its axis for a brief instant. Unfortunately, the tender moment did not last nearly as long as Jaskier would have wished as Eskel pulled back far too early for Jaskier’s liking. “I love you, dear heart.”

“And I you, Jaskier,” Eskel retorted before stepping out of the room. Jaskier did not go back to sleep that night, his mind too tormented to find peace when Eskel was so clearly upset. There was nothing else Jaskier could do but wait until his witcher came back to him. And hopefully by then, Eskel would be ready to talk.

_______

Jaskier had just started to dose off when Eskel returned to him only a few hours shy of sunrise. He smelled of Jaskier’s bergamot soap and of freshly cleaned cotton. Jaskier deduced that his witcher had stopped by the hot springs on his way back to his and Jaskier’s bedroom. The slightly damp hair tickling Jaskier’s face as Eskel cuddled against him under the covers was another indication that the witcher had just recently indulged in a bath. Jaskier instantly shifted closer to Eskel’s warm body and nuzzled the thick neck affectionately. Eskel locked their lips in a loving kiss.

“Did you manage to get back to sleep, sweetling?”

“No. Did you manage to clear your head?”

“No. After a couple of hours of me fussing over Scorpion he started to act cranky, so I thought it best to leave him be,” the witcher explained, an amused chuckle rumbling low in his chest which had Jaskier smirking. The bard’s fingers traced complicated patterns on the taut skin of Eskel’s stomach, pulling a pleased purr from the witcher.

“And judging by the heavenly smell, you spent some time in the hot springs.”

“Mmh. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate me reeking of horse when I came back to bed,” Eskel explained sheepishly.

“Oh, dearest heart, I’ve smelled far worse on you than horse sweat. Drowner gut comes to mind, or rotfiend remains. Did I ever tell you the story of how Geralt return to a tavern covered in selkimore guts? Now _that_ was a smell to behold. I could almost taste it in my mouth!”

“You may have mentioned that once or twice,” Eskel chuckled at the memories and the sound warmed Jaskier’s heart. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his fingers trailed up to hover over Eskel’s heart. The witcher let out a content sigh and covered Jaskier’s hand with his larger one, squeezing his lover’s digits affectionately. The two lay for a while in peaceful silence before Eskel’s baritone voice was heard again.

“I think I want to talk about my nightmare. I think it would help. Not only me, but it would also help you understand some… _things_ about me.”

“Oh Eskel,” Jaskier placed a single kiss on the witcher’s collarbone, “I am all ears, my heart.”

“Alright.” Eskel took a composing breath and pulled Jaskier closer with his free arm as if drawing strength from his bard. “Did Geralt ever tell you how I ended up at Kaer Morhen when I was a child?”

Jaskier snorted unceremoniously at the question.

“Geralt barely gave me the time of day for the best part of two decades, darling. He’s a witcher of very few words.”

“Hm. He never used to be, but I suppose that’s a tale for another night. Anyway. I was born in a small village in the mountains near Toussaint. I only know this because Vesemir taught us some geography when we were growing up and he happened to mention the ‘hill folk’ from where I came from. I don’t remember much of my childhood, most of the memories were lost during the trials. Some things stuck with me, though. I remember an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me every night as she tucked us into bed. And I remember my younger brother Cyril.”

Jaskier held his breath as Eskel told his story. There was nothing Jaskier loved more than listening to people tell theirw stories, whether they were made up or based on real events. As a bard, it was his job to embellish and perhaps dramatize the stories he heard, but it felt wrong doing this with Eskel’s tale. Jaskier could sense the raw emotion in the witcher’s tone as he recalled what little memories he had of his family. It would be sacrilegious to tarnish these memories without his lover’s explicit permission.

“Cyril was three or four years younger than me I think. He would never leave my side. I don’t remember much of my father, but I have a feeling that’s because he was either absent or indifferent to us. Then again, I don’t remember my mother much either. But Cyril? I’ll never forget him. We were close, really close in fact. I remember taking him with me to the river every day to get water, and I would teach him to set up snares for the rabbits and told him which berries he could eat. I don’t know who taught _me_ all these things, though.”

“I remember taking a class in Oxenfurt where we learned about hill folk culture,” Jaskier spoke after a short silence, “they taught us that hill folk often raise their children as a community. One of the elders will probably have taught a group of children some rudimentary survival skills. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was already the case nearly a century ago when you were a child.”

Eskel hummed pensively but did not elaborate on Jaskier’s remark. The bard went quiet again, giving Eskel some time to gather his thoughts. When the witcher spoke again, his voice was tight with emotion.

“I remember the day that Vesemir took me away. It was a warm summer day. Cyril and I had gone down to the river to get water, and when we came back there was commotion in the village. Everyone was gathered around a stranger – Vesemir,” Eskel added as an explanation, and Jaskier did not fail to notice the way the witcher’s voice softened as he spoke his mentor’s name, “he had taken care of a archespores in the area and had come back for payment. We didn’t have much money to offer, but I remember one of the eldest mentioned that witchers recruited young boys to join their ranks and offered up the youngest child as a reward for Vesemir’s efforts.”

Another pause during which Jaskier was able to connect the dots. His heart sank in his chest while Eskel was biting the inside of his cheek. Jaskier could sense where this tale was going.

“Cyril?”

Eskel nodded in response.

“Vesemir told me many years later that my mother was pleading with him not to take Cyril, that she would work twice as hard and get the coin herself to pay his fee if he spared her youngest son from this cruel fate. She offered Vesemir to return to the village in a year’s time and collect his reward…”

“And clearly Vesemir refused your mother’s offer?”

“They needed boys back then too fill the ranks,” Eskel supplied neutrally, “there isn’t any need for new witchers anymore, but back then demand was high and supply was scarce. Witchers commonly invoked the law of surprise, not like today. Most witchers avoid the law of surprise like the plague nowadays. Times have changed since.”

Eskel’s hand, which until then had been firmly squeezing Jaskier’s, went to rub the scarred side of his face like the witcher so often did when he felt uncomfortable or agitated. Jaskier waited patiently for Eskel to relax and continue his tale.

“I told Vesemir to take me instead. I wouldn’t let Cyril go with him. I _couldn’t_. He was too young. We had all heard the tales of witchers and what happens to the boys they took away to be trained. He was a sensitive boy, wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was also very fragile health wise. He was very prone to pneumonia, he nearly died of the chicken pox as a child… even if Cyril had survived the trip to Kaer Morhen, he would never have survived the training or the mutations. Of course, I didn’t know this back then, but I knew that I couldn’t let him go. I was his older brother, it was my job to protect him. In hindsight offering myself up was the best decision I ever made.”

Jaskier’s heart sank in his chest as Eskel finished his story, but at the same time the bard was honoured that the witcher had decided to share this with him. Fiercely loyal, protective Eskel who had volunteered to go with Vesemir to spare his brother the pain and misery of a life as a witcher. It would make for a great ballad, but Jaskier kept that thought to himself. It didn’t seem appropriate to mention this when Eskel was feeling so raw and vulnerable. Jaskier’s heart felt so full of love, and adoration, and respect for his lover and when their lips met again, Jaskier did his very best to convey all these feelings with a single kiss.

“My brave witcher,” Jaskier whispered against Eskel’s lips as he straddled his lover dextrously, his hands coming up to cup Eskel’s face tenderly, “I don’t think I have ever felt more in love with you than I do now.”

Eskel smiled softly, his eyes shimmering in the warm glow of the rising sun and bringing the amber of his irises to life.

“I haven’t told many people,” Eskel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes sought Jaskier’s, “and I trust that this will stay between us. Promise me, Jaskier.”

“Oh, but I had a whole ballad and three songs already planned,” Jaskier joked, only earning himself a weak swat to the back of the head. The bard sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I vow on my honour as a bard that I won’t use your tale in any of my future ballads or poems. There, happy?”

“Very much so. Be warned, bardling, if I hear that you broke your promise…” Eskel’s hand landing a firm slap on Jaskier’s bottom pulled a surprised yelp from the bard. Eskel merely grinned at the wounded look his lover shot him.

“Hardly a threat, dear witcher…,” Jaskier teased in a sultry voice, “you make my punishment sound so sweet and enticing…”

“Hmmm,” this time when Eskel’s lips met Jaskier’s, there was nothing innocent about the kiss their shared. It was messy and desperate but complaining was the furthest thing from Jaskier’s mind. “Let me show you what you’ve got to _gain_ if you’re a good well-behaved bard.”

Before Jaskier could react, he was being flipped onto his back as Eskel straddled him and left a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses from Jaskier’s collarbone all the way down his chest and stomach. Jaskier stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle the loud moans that Eskel’s skilled tongue pulled from him in a conscious effort not to wake the entire keep with their lovemaking.

They say that destiny works in mysterious ways, but Jaskier had no intention of questioning Destiny’s plans so long as has he was allowed to wake up next to Eskel every day for the rest of his life.

TBC.


End file.
